What is wrong with me?
Why can’t I stop hurting him?
Uncertainty hangs between us, all because I’m too weak to move on. But after everything I’ve put him through, the least I can do is give him the truth.
“He tried,” I rasp, hugging myself. “He tried to rape me. And even though he didn’t, I can still feel him, still feel the fear and the pain.” The words come out choked, and the confession makes me feel stupid.
I don’t deserve sympathy or comfort. But tears stream down my face.
I’m a disgrace.
“I’m sorry. I know I should be grateful he didn’t do worse, not when others weren’t as lucky. I just–”
“No.” Sin’s tone is hard.
His steps are slow as he comes to stand before me, giving me plenty of time to back away. When I don’t move, he cradles my cheek to brush away my tears with his thumb. His palm glances over the fresh cut from Leon’s blade.
“Your pain and your fear are valid. No matter what others have gone through, what you experienced wasreal. It was terrifying and traumatic. You’re hurting, and you’re allowed to grieve. You deserve to be held through it, not judged – especially not by yourself.” He presses his forehead to mine. “Nothing good comes from comparing your pain to others. Comparison doesn’t heal. Compassion does.”
His words feel like a balm to the jagged edges of my soul, and I wrap my arms around his neck. He holds me like I’m made of glass, and I melt into his touch.
Some of the pressure eases from my chest.
This is my safe haven.
We stay like that for a while, until my eyelids start to droop.
“Come on, let’s get you tucked in,” he whispers, bending to pick me up. His hand brushes my thigh, right against one of Leon’s bite marks.
My eyes snap open, and I desperately try not to see the memory associated with the pain.
Sin freezes, sensing the change. But when my body stays rigid, he gently sets me on the bed and backs up. His hands are raised in a gesture of surrender.
My eyes widen, realizing what’s happening.
Sin is afraid to touch me.
Leon isn’t here, and still, he’s taking from me. He’s stealing things that were never his to claim.
Only now, the thought doesn’t leave me feeling small or afraid.
It pisses me the fuck off.
“What do you need, kitten?” Sin asks, slightly panicked.
Rage builds within me, and I dig my fingers into the blankets to try to control it. The wells of power inside me feel like they’re trying to bubble over as my fury draws them together.
No more.
Leon has taken enough.
“You,” I answer. My eyes lock onto Sin’s, and I make sure he can see the absolute certainty behind the word.
His brow drops, and he doesn’t move. Worried gray eyes search mine. “You’ve been through something horrible. You should rest.”
He takes another step back, like the distance will help him do what he thinks I need.
But he doesn’t get to decide how I heal.
